Thomas King: All my life, I believed I was Indigenous. Now, I must reckon with the inconvenient truth

Does raise the question whether a fixation on “bloodline” to identify “pretensions” rather than considering their work, perspective and perceived identity would not be a more comprehensive approach given that many of us have mixed ancestry and identity:

…And then there will be the harder question, the question that will be on many people’s lips as they read this: Did you know that you weren’t Cherokee all along and simply perpetrate and maintain a fraud throughout your professional life for fame and profit? 

While the answers to the other questions are problematic, the answer to this last one is a simple, hard, no. 

Not that this will keep people from believing what they will. Human nature loves blood in the water.

TAAF suggested that I might want to offer up an apology for my life, but an apology assumes a crime, an offence, a misdeed. And I don’t think that’s appropriate. Throughout my career – activist, academic, administrator, writer – I’ve conducted myself in the belief that I was mixed-blood Cherokee. 

However, having seen the genealogical evidence, should I choose to continue on in that vein from this point forward, then an accusation of fraud would have merit.

Mind you, going forward is going to be difficult, if not impossible. Will I try to step sideways into the sphere of the Tony Hillermans, the Evan S. Connells, the William Eastlakes, non-Natives who wrote about Natives? The Helen Hunt Jacksons and the Dee Browns of the world?

Or will I just pack my tent and slip away?

First, I have to survive the firestorm that’s coming. The anger. The disbelief. The feelings of betrayal. The media that will reduce a painful and complex matter to a series of misleading chyrons and simplistic sound bites. Individuals who will retell the story ad nauseam until all the tones have been washed away….

I’d like to think that, at the very least, I will be able to find a way to continue to support Indigenous causes and Indigenous artists, though I’m not sure the causes and artists will want to stand too close to such a smouldering wreck. 

Most likely I’ll do what I’ve always done. Tell stories. Write stories. I’ve always found sanctuary in the spoken word, safe haven in a well-turned paragraph. Or maybe I’ll heed my own counsel, try channelling the sign-off for the old Dead Dog Café radio show. 

Stay calm, be brave, wait for the signs.

All things considered, it’s probably as good a piece of advice as I’m going to find.

Source: Thomas King: All my life, I believed I was Indigenous. Now, I must reckon with the inconvenient truth